


Tumblr Asks & Drabbles

by Stivvy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (and only on raf's part), (only a bit), Angst, Best Friends, Best Friends in Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Love Confessions, M/M, Secret Relationship, nuzzles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-20 09:59:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16553645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stivvy/pseuds/Stivvy
Summary: so i guess i started writing some more thanks to these prompts. figured you should have em!!all kindsa skittles headcanons/ficlets/fics that got out of hand, mostly happy fluff, some angst but always happy endings :)tags will be added with chapter uploads.





	1. joint custody

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> "I just had the craziest idea! What if Scott’s dad had some custody of him (like 3 weeks during summer break he was forced to vacation at his house) but Scott started refusing when he was a teen unless he could bring Stiles and that’s one of the things that made him dislike Stiles so much, maybe they were too affectionate or he even caught them practicing kissing or something??"

i don’t think rafael found it weird that scott and stiles were always so affectionate. not when they were young, because it’s just normal for them to be close when your child has only one friend. like any adult around them, scott’s dad was used to them being stuck like glue to each other’s sides, one always trailing the other as they ran off to do their childish things. little boys are encouraged to be physical with each other, but scott and stiles never could quite do things the way they were expected to (maybe that’s why they stuck to themselves), so their physicality only ever amounted to hand holding, shoulder shoving, tickle fights, and wrestling for the remote.

scott would hate having to spend prolonged periods at his dad’s house without a buffer. it’s not that his dad is cruel or even indifferent to him, it’s just he would hate having to look at his face trying not to think about all the horrible things he’d like to say to it. so when he tells his dad that this summer he’s bringing stiles, he doesn’t really expect much of an argument; at this point, it’s all rafael can do to get him to agree to come at all. instead of feeling smug, as he expected to, scott feels a fluttering excitement at the thought of getting to spend the extra time with stiles, not to mention relief at the prospect of finally having that excuse to not be around his dad. he even smiles when he says goodbye and hangs up the phone, bouncing on the tips of his toes before running off to find stiles and tell him the great news.

it’s not exactly a bachelor pad, but it’s not Castle McCall either, and at least rafael makes a bit of effort to accommodate the extra body that’s gonna share it for 3 weeks. and by accommodate, i mean he sets up the sheets and pillows by the head of the couch bed, and puts out an extra place setting on the small table by the kitchen patio door. he’s hoping the kid remembers to bring his own toothbrush, but extra towels he has.

when the boys see the couch there’s a pause; a questioning look from stiles to scott, and an eyeroll from the latter when he says, “dad, stiles’ isn’t gonna sleep on the couch for 3 weeks, that’s just rude.” rafael doesn’t even get to respond as scott is already turning around and grabbing stiles’ things, “come on, you can share my bed like usual, it’s just around here.” okay so rafael might twitch a bit in that instant, but he brushes it off because he’d rather not start this visit on a bad note, and anyways, he remembers when stiles used to sleep over and how they would refuse to leave each other at bedtime. maybe it’s a bit weird since they’re older, and bigger, but still it’s scott and stiles, so he doesn’t say or think anything more about it the rest of the day, trying to keep the atmosphere light as a cloud to avoid souring scott’s surprisingly upbeat mood. he really does love scott and wants to earn his love in return.

the next morning, as the two boys laze out of bed and join him in the kitchen, rafael can’t help but quirk his eyebrow when he notices that stiles must have forgotten his own pyjamas, currently sporting the rudolf onesie he gave scott for christmas two years ago, sleeves and legs too obviously short for him and his bony limbs. he’s wearing the matching antler slippers too. he doesn’t say a word though, because this is also not the first time something like this has happened.

scott and stiles spend their time like most teenage boys, hovering between bites of pizza, video games, youtube videos, comic books, and more pizza. sometimes they head outside to the park down the street. scott’s a bit bummed that he only has one skateboard here, but stiles is totally okay with trying out a piggyback skate, landing them face down in the concrete about 10 feet out the door. he apologizes for it by making scott pull him the rest of the way on the skateboard while he jogs at his side. stiles may squeeze his shoulder a bit hard, but scott’s never been happier to be squeezed. he laughs when stiles squeals as he picks up the pace at their approach to a small upswing in the pavement, but as soon as he reaches the top scott stops, allowing stiles and the skateboard to coast ahead of him a few feet. “scotttttt!” but just before stiles can disorient himself enough to topple over in a heap scott is rushing forward to catch him, still breathlessly laughing as he wraps his arms around stiles’ waist and slows him to a stop before they both plummet down the tiny hill. the skateboard’s not so lucky, and scott watches with dismay as it rolls the rest of the way down, curving into the bushes and hitting a tree with a resounding cracking sound. stiles doesn’t even notice, because his face is a bit preoccupied with the fabric of scott’s t-shirt as he presses it against his nose and forehead. “you asshole,” he grumbles into scott’s chest, “i could’ve died just there, i hope you know.” grumble grumble. scott laughs again, a bit more softly this time, “okay sure, sorry i almost made you fall down this tiny little hill, you would never have survived.” eye roll eye roll. he taps his hands at stiles’ back, patting him gently like a mother would to burp an infant. he hopes that doesn’t happen as the thought floats briefly through his head, stiles had a lot of hot sauce at lunch. lucky for him, stiles’ consumption of mountain dew did not reach quite the same level as his consumption of hot sauce, so scott is spared the reminder for now. “come on, loser, stop crying all over my shirt and let’s go get my board. it’s probably broken now.” “i am not crying! how dare you suggest such a thing.” scott barks a small laugh at stiles’ scandalized tone, and turns both of their bodies towards the woods. “also i’m not paying for the board, you’re the one who sent it flying down the hill.” “hey! that was at LEAST half your fault for letting go!”

when rafael knocks on the bedroom door to ask the boys to get ready for bed, he’ll usually find them splayed across it in front of scott’s laptop, bowls of popcorn or ice cream balanced precariously on the comforter beside them, eyes fixed intently on the blinking screen. it’s a relieving sight, to say the least, because even though he knows they’ve been best friends forever, rafael can’t help but understand that they’re teenagers now. and teenagers always find a way to do things they shouldn’t. honestly he half expects them to be knotting sheets together for a late night prison break out the window every time he comes to say goodnight. happily they never are. if they don’t come out for breakfast though, rafael just rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother knocking, swinging the door open and hoping the wafting smell of eggs cooking might encourage his not very friendly bedside manner. “hey, guys, it’s time to get-” he cuts himself off when he takes in the sight of his son and his best friend in bed together. not sharing the bed, as they always have, but in it together, as in, wrapped up in each other under the covers, nothing but their heads peeking out side by side on the pillow, a blissful dreamy look on their faces so close they could have fallen asleep kissing. after pausing for a full five seconds to absorb the scene, rafael clears his throat and turns to leave, “i’ll give you five minutes, then i’m eating the rest of it myself.” he decides not to ask about their “position,” but listens at the door a few moments to see if they stir. when he hears the first mumbles and smacks of the two boys’ bodies coming back to life, he quickly hurries away so as to avoid any further (this time mutually) awkward moments.

there is no way rafael is gonna bring this up to his son. was there more to this relationship than he ever thought? all these years? or was this something new.. his son experimenting? first love? is everything he ever took for granted about these boys now somehow completely irrelevant? does he even know scott anymore? i think what it comes down to, amidst his confusion, is that rafael begins to feel the stirrings of jealousy. it’s familiar, because every time he looks at his son he knows that he loves his mother more. that he should love his mother more. and here he is, this boy, this stiles, this friend who’s always been here, taking up the rest of scott’s heart. but really taking it, as though there couldn’t possibly be any more room for his own father in that gigantic heart of his (he’s wrong, of course, but it feels that way). he’s jealous of stiles. jealous of the way scott lights up around him, jealous of the way he grabs his hand without hesitation, throws himself into his arms for hugs, and laughs with his entire body when stiles cracks a joke. jealous of the way his smile is so soft when he’s looking at his friend, practically no crinkles around his eyes but cheekbones still lifted in an easy gesture of joy, entire body relaxed with it. sometimes rafael remembers the way scott used to look at him, even before he was forming real words, eyes wide, hopeful and trusting, wrapping his entire fist around one finger and squeezing. his heart aches with memories like these. so when he sees the ghost of scott’s baby face directed at stiles, it stings his throat like the whiskey that came between them, and he has to turn away.

it’s not like they’re more touchy feely than usual, not enough for rafael to notice, anyway, and so after that weird morning it barely crosses his mind the rest of the time they’re there. he does hear them whispering some nights, and tries to carefully redirect his ear so that he can stay out of anything so personal. he really does want to remain on eggshells around scott, if only just to be sure he does absolutely nothing to alienate him if he can help it. the tinkling sounds of their laughter when it reaches a certain pitch does warm something inside him, though. he’s so glad scott can be happy, even if he doesn’t usually get to witness it. he may have walked in on one more suspicious sleeping position before sternly reminding himself to start knocking again in the morning. he wonders if scott will ever feel confident enough to confide in him again, or even tell him anything he’s feeling.. ever. he wants that so badly. but for now he accepts that he can’t have his son back the way it used to be. that now those crooked smiles and hopeful doe eyes are directed at someone else, smiles and laughter, joy and wonder all pointed at stiles, in his face, his voice, and body language.

he isn’t there when scott and stiles are packing on the last morning, just hours before they’re meant to leave this place, having stepped out to refill on instant coffee for the drive. scott watches as stiles begins stuffing the antler slippers into his duffel bag, lips quirking in a fondly exasperated smile.  
“dude, you could maybe ask? i like those slippers.”  
“yeah, you like them on me.” stiles grins and throws the second slipper at scott’s face.  
“oh is that right?” scott doesn’t even flinch at the assaulting (though plush) footwear, and immediately dives at stiles, throwing them both headlong into the bed so enthusiastically it gives a moan of protest beneath them.  
“heck yeah, i’m right,” stiles is a bit weak with laughter, but heaves a breath as he looks right into scott’s eyes, millimeters from his own.  
“okay.. fine. maaaybe you’re right. this time,” those eyes turn heavy as he looks into them, and scott sucks in a breath of his own.  
“this time?” stiles snorts, attractively, “name one time i’ve been wrong.”  
“well,” scott starts, still staring at stiles’ face, eyes trailing up and down from lips to lids, fluttering like their heartbeats in his ears, “i think…” he can feel his pulse start to pick up speed, suddenly horribly aware of every single spot their two bodies are connected, some more… complexly than others, under the circumstances. he picks up an arm to put a small distance between them, and starts to places his fingers gingerly on stiles’ chest.  
“i think you’re wrong about me.”  
stiles doesn’t move the entire time scott thinks about what he wants to say. he’s probably holding his breath, but he can’t be sure because as soon as scott is doing that with his fingers his mind starts to short out, and he almost misses what scott actually says.  
“w-wrong about you? how could i ever be wrong about- of all things, scotty, how could i ever be wrong about you?” he sounds legitimately offended, though something in his eyes tells scott it’s just his usual front.  
“well.. umm.. i mean.. i kinda figured…” scott is trying so hard not to look stiles in the eye anymore, suddenly so unsure of himself he almost wants to jump right out of the bed and run all the way back to beacon hills. instead he sucks in another deep breath, pressing his fingers into stiles’ shirt and letting them crawl up towards his hairline, where he leaves them lying in the soft curls at the base of his neck. “ikindafiguredyouthoughtididn’tlikeyou.”  
again, stiles almost misses this completely thanks to scott’s fingers and their absolute and utter disregard for his sensory limits and boundaries. his eyes are certainly fluttering closed at this point when scott hurls out the most ridiculously absurd statement he’s ever heard.  
“wait.. you.. you what??” his eyes are wide open now, fingers tensed at scott’s hips where they’d naturally fallen in their tumbling only minutes before. one of his legs even tries valiantly to bend in surprise, causing scott to flinch minutely at the sudden physical disturbance in their connection.  
“i thought-” but stiles cuts scott off, assuming he was about to repeat himself and hoping to get straight to the point, “you thought i thought you didn’t like me? you mean… _like _me like me? like the way….” but here stiles cuts himself off too, as if finishing the sentence is suddenly too difficult, even though he knows they both know what the last three words would be.__  
“yes,” scott supplies helpfully, “you were wrong. i do like you. _that _way.” it’s the bravest he’s ever been. even though everything in his heart tells him this can only end well, he’s still terrified of stiles’ reaction.__  
“you… like me.” stiles is trying it out on his lips, which he then politely wets and smacks together as though he’s just tasted the words and approves, “you like me. like _that _.” the last words he phrases as both statement and question at the same time, lifting his brows to emphasize his pending belief in what he’s just said out loud.  
“yeah, stiles,” scott smiles sweetly when he can finally safely make eye contact again, matching the glimmer in stiles’ eyes as they meet along the current in the air between them, “i like you like that.”  
stiles’ hands release some of their tension, only to slide along scott’s back and up his spine, testing out the feeling as he plays scott’s curls between his fingers. “you like me like that…” he’s murmuring now, eyelids fluttering again as he shifts his body as close as he possibly can without seeming too eager (he is though, he is). scott’s quiet whisper of “yes” can barely be heard as he closes the tiny space left between them and takes stiles’ lips in his own, gently slotting between them and fitting perfectly, as if they’d never belonged anywhere else.__


	2. fragile bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I saw an interview where Shelley says Malia would show affection by punching Stiles and I was thinking about how in S4 Stiles shows Scott his back with presumably scratches/bruises from sex looking freaked out lol and was thinking how different that must have been for Stiles when he starts dating Scott (not BAD just DIFFERENT because I love Malia and it hurts me when people say Stiles didn’t love her etc HE DID) but Scott is just SO gentle it would have been such a change lol it made me laugh!!

the only reason scott doesn’t leave a mark is because he’s trained himself to have some restraint. especially when it comes to stiles and his “fragile bones” (pun definitely not intended).  
even if he hadn’t needed to consciously monitor and measure every physical reaction he has, thanks to his abnormal strength and other senses, scott is definitely the Most gentle with people he loves. so naturally it would be no different with stiles.  
scott is the intimate manifestation of worship through the six senses. heightened smells, sounds, tastes and touches only bolster his determination to thoroughly investigate every possible path to pleasure he might have before him, but First for his lover. because it’s scott we’re talking about here, and his own desires or needs will always come after those of the people he loves. wolf or no wolf, scott attunes every part of himself to stiles’ responses, physical or otherwise, and it’s a comfortable subconscious submission, to let those responses guide him, and them, down the proper path.  
he loves dancing his fingers along stiles’ sides, okay mostly to watch him squirm, but also because of the way stiles’ skin jumps back only the tiniest bit before it’s back under his hands again, because stiles’ body absolutely does not have the urge to be any further away from scott. he also loves that tickling generally brings stiles even closer to him, as if he’s trying to get away from scott’s hands by burrowing into his chest instead of running in the other direction. scott is happiest when those long arms eventually wrap around his back and roll him over, stiles pinning them to the bed by the wrist, face tucked perfectly into the crook of scott’s neck trying to catch his breath. sometimes this leads to soft grumbling in his chest, as if his wolf was purring, and scott loves feeling stiles work his breathing into a rhythm with his own, his pulse slowing to a relaxed pace.  
sometimes it goes the other way, and stiles finds himself the one pinned to the sheets, scott’s no longer asthmatic lungs definitely not what forces his labored breathing, not when his eyes are flashing twinges of red along the iris, hooded and drawn down over stiles’ goose pimpled skin. that’s as wolfy as it gets though, because scott doesn’t even need to think about holding it back anymore, not with stiles. the first time stiles notices the red seeping in he actually does comment on it, though he betrays absolutely no measure of fear or tension when he does. stiles has never felt more safe or at peace than in these moments, surrounded and grounded by the one person who wants and is a part of every fiber of his being. he’s never afraid. not of scott. it does catch scott a little off guard, though, and in those first gentle days when they’re together he makes sure to be super extra aware of himself around stiles, landing every touch feather light, every kiss soft and slow before he can sense stiles begging for more. of course it doesn’t take much for stiles to pull him closer, grab at his hands and press his fingers into his hips, his chest, his legs, anywhere to have scott leave some kind of impression, some sense of urgency so he can cling harder, the scent of his want clouding scott’s conscious thought with a deeper need than he’s used to.


	3. that night on the bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Scott and Stiles being gentle with each other like after the nogitsune they’re stuck together like glue for a couple weeks and one night Stiles whispers “after all those bandages were unwrapped… did everyone see me naked? Even your mom?” And Scott gives this gentle laugh and says “no I took care of you buddy” or after motel California Stiles is holding Scott to him half the night whispering how much he loves him and to never leave him he really couldn’t live without him I am so soft :(

i’m a sucker for some post-trauma comfort cuddles so let’s talk a bit more about that night on the bus after everyone else has fallen asleep, and stiles thinks he’s finally the only one awake after feeling scott’s pulse even out to a slow and steady beat in his arms. because of course they would fall asleep just like that. one of them- in this case stiles- propped up against the window, one leg up and one hanging from the seat, the other (scott, duh) spread out along the same seat with both legs dangling off the end into the aisle, head resting just under stiles’ chin and both arms curled around his torso.  
it’s not that they couldn’t talk about it, it’s that neither boy had any idea what to say, and they were content to just be in each other’s space for now, breathe in each other’s scents and stuff. skirting fingers over fabric and skin to make sure it’s all really there, to remind each other just how much they don’t need words to communicate. stiles is okay with that, was okay with that, needed to be there to catch scott as he was falling, to hold him tightly and let his sobs vanish into his own skin, to spare scott some little bit of something private as he came back to himself. so he didn’t say a word. scott even let him wipe the tears from his cheek, trying to return stiles’ sad smile and only managing to duck his chin, nuzzling slowly against stiles’ shoulder under the guise of wiping away more tears. stiles hugged him tightly and landed a tiny kiss on scott’s head, taking in the feeling of his soft curls against his lips and turning his head to the side for more of it- stiles may have nuzzled a bit himself but he’d never admit it.  
now that he’s as sure as he can be that scott is actually asleep, stiles starts to move his free hand (the other one is trapped under scott, of course) as lightly as possible, skimming the edge of scott’s arm with his fingertips. he can feel scott’s skin respond to his touch, tiny goosebumps he can’t even see lifting the little hairs towards his body heat. stiles can also feel his heart begin to beat just that little bit faster as he lets his hand fall onto scott’s bicep, curling his long fingers around it carefully as if scott was made of a cloud that might disappear at his touch. when scott doesn’t react, stiles lets out a small sigh that had been building in his chest, and lowers his head to scott’s hair again, breathing in the flowery smell of the hotel shampoo they had used to get the gasoline out only hours before. “don’t you ever do that again scotty, okay?” he finally whispers into dark, voice muffled by scott’s hair and his own trembling tone. there’s a burning at the corners of his eyes, and stiles feels the tears finally start to flow. he allows a sniffle, careful not to be too loud, and wipes those tears as delicately as he can with the curls beneath him. “i can’t…” he takes another deep breath, “i can’t lose you. you know that.” and another, slow and strong, like he’s been waiting his whole life to take this breath, “i love you scott.” it’s still only a whisper, but stiles feels like he’s just shouted into a megaphone. “god damn it scott i love you so much,” he’s not even stopping to wipe his tears anymore, “if you leave me i can’t.. i won’t.. i don’t even know what i’d do.” stiles stops what feels like the longest speech he’s ever made, and strains to listen for any shift in scott’s pulse or breathing. everything seems the same. stiles murmurs again, into scott’s hair this time, and shifts only slightly to squeeze the peacefully sleeping boy in his arms. “i love you scotty,” he plants another kiss, this time on scott’s forehead, and finally settles back to close his eyes, lips parting slowly as he whispers a final “always have, always will.” stiles won’t ever know because he’s too afraid to ask, if the answering “i love you too, stiles” was the beginning of a dream or not, but he’s content to believe it was. for now.


	4. scarred for life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: We can think about cute fun things if you want like Skittles holding hands for the first time or how Stiles is jealous Scott gets to listen to his heart but Stiles doesn’t get to listen to his so he falls asleep on Scott’s chest listening to his heart or how no one notices they’re together at first cuz they’re already are.

scott and stiles don’t even remember the first time they held hands (their parents do, though), and it’s kind of just the normal state of things until they reach about age 10. i mean, when one of them is always wanting to run somewhere and the other has the lungs of a senior citizen, some tugging along on adventures comes with the territory. they’ve both always been tactile, of course, hugging and shoving, wrestling and tickling each other whenever they pleased, and it never even occurred to them that it might be strange to an outsider. when they start to get looks for the hand holding though, that’s when it occurs to them. not that they care? they just, notice. it’s not enough to change any dynamic between them, but the first time that stiles takes scott’s hand in his, after that, he feels an extra squeeze. he squeezes right back, of course, and they share a grin that they turn in the direction of the rude gaze, before walking off while swinging their arms between them.

stiles loves lying on top of scott mainly because scott is a huge solid warm body that he just fits so well on top of. and around. and inside of… anyway. my point is, obviously, that their bodies were created and molded into being to fit perfectly with one another. stiles loves wrapping his gangly arms around scott’s middle, squeezing a little bit when his hands clasp together at his hip and digging his fingertips in at the same time. more like scratching, really, not digging, and scott always lets out little puffs of air when he does this, which makes stiles shiver when they land on or around his ear or cheek. whatever part of his face isn’t tucked into scott’s chest, nuzzling around like a newborn kitten. one ear is usually plastered to that chest, attuned immediately to the calm thumping that tells him scott is happy, satisfied, and relaxed. which, of course, makes him smile every time. which scott, in turn, can feel, just like every tiny gesture that comes from stiles, especially when they’re touching. scott traces his fingers down stiles’ back in swirly circular motions, listening carefully so as to match his breathing so that they can drift off at the same time, which they inevitably do.

when they finally get.. “together” together, it’s absolutely the most natural thing in the world. neither scott nor stiles is surprised at the long anticipated turning point in their relationship (obviously because they both knew it would eventually happen), but they’re still not sure how to break it to everyone else they know. they decide to slowly drop hints around their parents first, to see what the reactions might be, but when both melissa and the sheriff act as though nothing is at all different, they wonder if maybe it’s just a parental thing, like.. they’re being supportive or something? so they decide to bring it a little more out in the open to see if, objectively, someone might notice things have… changed. they think they’re being so sly, randomly touching each other for no reason, grabbing each other’s hands as they walk down the school hallway, stiles even feeds scott fries at lunch, licking his finger to gently clean off the bit of ketchup stuck on scott’s lower lip. they stare at each other for what seems like minutes at a time, and huddle together at scott’s locker, leaning into each other when friends come over to say hello. scott even drapes his arm around stiles as they leave the lacrosse field after practice, but not one person comments the entire day.  
scott and stiles are both baffled, and together they corner malia before the final bell, stiles just about shoving her into the lockers when he asks, “hey! what the hell? are you guys all blind or something?” she’s completely confused, of course, and punches him on the shoulder for effect, “what are you talking about stiles? can you maybe back up and chill for a second?” scott is clearly embarrassed by the confrontation, and hangs behind stiles with a shy little smile on his face. “we’ve been all over each other all day, and nobody even said one word about it,” stiles almost whines at her, “it’s like you didn’t even notice we were here acting like boyfriends right in front of your oblivious face!” malia just looks amused. of course she does, because, “stiles… how the hell is that any different from any other day of the week exactly?” “wh- wh.. what the hell??” is stiles’ eloquent reaction to that absurd statement, but he doesn’t get to qualify it, because scott finally opens his mouth, reaching out to steady stiles with a hand on his lower back. “are you saying…” he starts slowly, “are you saying we’ve been acting like boyfriends the whole time you’ve known us?” malia laughs in that way you do when someone says something completely obvious, “HA!” she spits out, leaning against the lockers for support like she’s about to break into a fit of giggles, “to say the least.”  
scott feels a bit.. dismayed by her conclusion.. but then he thinks about it, and finds he’s not at all surprised by it after all. he turns to look at stiles, who is still frozen in shock, an inscrutable expression taking shape on his face. suddenly he moves, and scott doesn’t even see it coming when stiles throws out his arm, grabs him by the neck and pulls him in for a sloppy, drawn out, kinda loud kiss. right in front of malia. right in front of everyone. and with his eyes closed, scott feels like it’s that first time the dam broke, when all of his emotions came rushing to the surface and out his lips, sucking, nibbling, and holding fast to stiles’ face with his sweaty palms. when he opens his eyes he’s pulled swiftly back to the reality of the school hallway, which is suddenly so quiet you could probably hear his heart pounding on the next floor. “um…” he’s blushing, clearly terrified and elated at the same time, but he takes stiles’ hands from his hips and holds them to his chest. they turn together, slowly, to face malia, whose mouth is basically on the floor at this point. “malia?” scott inches closer and makes as if to reach out, but stiles pulls back their arms and shakes his head at him. “that’s not something you see every day of the week now, is it?“ stiles sounds smug. pleased, a little resentful (that it had to come to this- he was sure out of everyone that malia would get it), and a lot relieved.  
malia still has not said one word, so stiles sighs audibly- and with his entire body, of course- and throws his arm back around scott. “okay, well, when you decide to finally figure it out, we’ll be at my place. getting. it. on.” and with that he swings the two of them around and starts walking. “stiles…” scott shakes his head fondly, “you didn’t have to, like, scar her for life, you know.” “i know,” stiles is smiling again, “but that was fucking fun, wasn’t it? wanna go make out in front of coach and see what happens?” scott just shoves him lightly with his hip, slipping a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth as they head through the front doors towards the jeep. “maybe tomorrow,” he says, voice a bit heavy, sleepy, warm, “i kinda have something else in mind right now.” stiles groans, not even trying at all to keep it down in the parking lot, and plants one last kiss, strong and passionate, on scott’s lips before jumping in the jeep and speeding all the way home.


End file.
